Gold Shirt: The Grim Reaper
by Spike2125
Summary: The financial crisis of 2008 plunged the world into chaos as economies failed to recover and governments were toppled. As wars erupted on every continent the Gold shirt was commissioned. Trained in the art of kill or be killed, these elite agents take on the most dangerous missions, helping to piece the world back together. It is now 2027 and the fight is far from over.
1. One For The Money, Two For The Show

**1. One For The Money, Two For The Show...**

"What if he doesn't talk?"

Two teenagers walked down a street in Bilbao, their lazy stroll projecting an air of calm. Moonlight guided their journey as the stars twinkled above them, the crisp winter's night air biting at exposed skin as they navigated the dim paths. The hoods of their sweaters were pulled up and their hands buried deep into their pockets, though this wasn't an uncommon sight for one o'clock on a January morning. A dark rucksack adorned each boy's back and they talked back and forth to each other in Basque; their hushed tones the only noise following the pair.

"He will."

Outwardly both appeared confident, but in reality only one was as calm as he appeared. If it wasn't for the Walther P99 he had shoved down the back of his jeans or the balaclava stuffed into the pocket of his hoody, he may well have been taking a trip down to the local corner shop for some milk.

"And what if he doesn't? They're moving in less than four hours and I really don't want to have the death of thousands on my conscience. I mean what if he doesn't tell us where they're stashing all the gear, or where they're moving to, or..."

On the other hand, the second boy, the younger of the two, was a jumble of nerves. His heart was going nineteen to the dozen and the verbal diarrhoea erupting from his mouth would be enough to piss off even the most collected of agents. Fortunately, the one he was with knew exactly how to deal with this; he just let him talk. The flow continued until the boy realised he wasn't being listened to.

"...saw enough fucking explosive to level an entire block. Shit, what if that's what they're planning? Lu? For fuck's sake Lu, are you even listening to me?"

"Nope," came the blunt reply, "But Rafa, please tell me you're gonna snap to once things start kicking off."

"Oh, yeah," the smaller boy replied, nodding his head, "I'll be fine. Just pre-game nerves, y'know? Like you get before a big football match. I'll be fine once the whistle blows, just I like to talk it out a bit."

"Good, so you can calm the fuck down. He'll talk, trust me. There's a reason he's only part of the logistics team; dude's softer than fucking marshmallow. He wants to aid their noble cause but is too much of a pussy to get his hands dirty so sticks to sorting out their housing and storage. Won't take more than five minutes, entry to exit."

With that, silence descended between the two make-believe brothers. Lu and Rafa, full names Luis Fernando Rodriguez and Rafael Abalos, had been in Bilbao for a little over four weeks and were now at the business end of their mission – trying to prevent an all-out war between the Basque nation and the Spanish Main it was trying to separate from.

The two boys, sixteen and fifteen years old respectively, had moved into a low-income area of the city with a Spanish _Centro Nacional de Inteligencia_ agent posing as their mother four weeks ago. In that time they had successfully infiltrated _Euskadi Ta Askatasuna_, a terrorist organisation that was the driving force behind the impending violence. With a death toll nearing five-figures, the Spanish government wanted a solution to the problem and CHERUB had stepped in.

The silence continued until they ducked into an alley between two rows of houses. Tiny gardens backed onto the alley and as they made their way down it they pulled the balaclavas out of their pockets and slipped them on over their heads, adjusting them until they were comfortable. The two boys easily identified their target house and silently clambered over the four-foot wooden fence that served as a wall for the alley.

The garden they dropped into was entirely covered with a mosaic of broken and crumbling patio slabs and two bikes leaned up against a tiny shed that was tilting precariously to one side. Creeping up to the backdoor each boy pulled out his pistol, ensuring the silencer was correctly attached and ammunition properly loaded. Luis dug into his rucksack and pulled out a small lock-gun, a handheld device specifically designed to quickly and easily pick simple locks.

"Remember, we only talk in Spanish. No Basque."

The lock clicked as Luis deftly worked the lock-gun, slowly pushing the door open, minimising any squeaking the old and rusty hinges gave off. The two boys moved carefully into the house, Rafael pulling the door closed behind him, and they began sweeping through the ground floor.

Finding the ground floor clear, they proceeded upstairs. Knowing that their target didn't have any immediate family – no wife, girlfriend or kids – it was unlikely there should be anyone else home, but their training forced them to check anyway. Encountering nobody else they arrived at the doorway of the only room not yet visited.

_I'll hold, you silence._ Luis acted out what he wanted to communicate to Rafael, not risking speaking this close to the man they were about to jump. The younger boy nodded in response, a steely determination in his eye having replaced the butterflies in his stomach from minutes earlier.

Luis gently lowered the handle on the door, silently swinging it open as the two crept into the almost pitch black bedroom. The single window had black-out curtains strung over it, but the two boys' eyes had acclimatised to the darkness throughout the house so their night-vision was as good as it got. Faint light also spilled in through the open doorway allowing them to easily identify the sleeping mass piled underneath a duvet to the left-hand side of a double bed.

Rafael picked up a discarded t-shirt from the floor and snuck around to the left side of the bed, Luis following right behind him. The two exchanged nods as the younger boy held up three fingers, silently counting down. As the final finger fell the two sprang forward, Rafael shoving the t-shirt into the sleeping man's mouth while Luis leapt onto him, his heavier bodyweight effectively restraining the terrified mass underneath him.

As Rafael crammed as much of the t-shirt into the man's mouth as he could get, Luis gently pressed the tip of his gun against the man's temple.

"Hello Marcelo." The man's eyes grew even wider as terror gripped him, "We need to have a little chat. Unfortunately, for that to happen, we need to take this out of your mouth, don't we?" Luis used the barrel of his gun to nudge the t-shirt crammed into the man's mouth. He left it pointing at the t-shirt as he continued speaking, "Now, when I remove this, you must promise not to scream like a girl, otherwise I might have to put another hole in your head, you understand?"

A shaky nod was Luis' response, and so Rafael pulled the t-shirt from the man's mouth.

"Who-" Marcelo started to speak but Luis lashed out with his hand, smashing his face with the butt of his gun.

"I thought I told you not to squeal?" growled Luis, grinding the barrel of his gun back into Marcelo's temple, "That is what I said, isn't it?"

A soft whimper emanated from Marcelo as Rafael leaned in to his face, "That is what he said, Marcelo, you should be happy he didn't just put a bullet in your skull. I know I almost did."

Luis grabbed the man by the scruff of the tatty shirt he was wearing, dragging him up from where he had fallen and pushing him down into the centre of the bed, "Now, you must understand that you will only speak when I ask you to. Is that clear?"

Marcelo was way too scared to risk speaking again after such an ambiguous and obvious trap question. Instead, the response he gave was somewhere between a squeak and a whine, accompanied with furious nodding of the head.

"Good. Now, you are Marcelo Feliciano, aren't you?"

"You can speak this time," laughed Rafael as the man nodded again.

"Yes," Marcelo finally spluttered, blood spitting from his mouth from where Luis had pistol-whipped him, "I am."

"Excellent, that's what we like to hear," replied Luis, encouragingly, "Now, we only have a few questions. Firstly, you are part of the ETA, yes?"

Silence descended, as Marcelo furiously tried to figure out the best way to respond to the question and reduce any pain that would be coming his way. Unfortunately, he waited too long and was rewarded with another hit to the face with the butt of Luis' gun.

"You really should answer his questions," Rafael added, "It will save you a lot of pain."

"I-I am part of the ETA, yes," Marcelo finally replied, spitting up blood onto the sheets, "But I've never hurt anyone! I've never even held a gun, I don't do any of that, please... You must believe me, please..." Marcelo was on the verge of sobbing as tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, we can believe that," Luis grinned, pushing the gun against his temple so that it forced his head around and into the pillow, "But if you aren't part of the militia and you're not part of the political party..."

"Trust us, you aren't, we checked," added Rafael, poking Marcelo's nose with the barrel of his gun to emphasise his point.

"...then what are you a part of?" Luis continued, "Oh, that's right. Logistics. Organisation. That's what you do, isn't it? You make sure all the members you're responsible for are housed safely and securely, don't you? And one more thing... Oh shit, what is it again?"

"Weapons."

"Ah, that's it! You help organise where all the weapons and vehicles are stashed, don't you?"

"No, I have no idea what you're talking about, please..." whimpered Marcelo, bringing his hands up to his face, "Please don't hit me again... Please..."

Sobs were racking his body now as tears flowed down his face, mingling with the blood coming from his mouth and the small cuts around his face.

"Oh, I don't think I'm going to hit you again." Luis shook his head before turning to Rafael, "Get the lights." The younger boy nodded before he walked across the room and flicked the light switch, activating the dim, shade-less bulb in the centre of the ceiling, harshly illuminating the room.

The light picked out a man in his late twenties, curled up on the bed with streak marks from his eyes and blood spilling out of his mouth and down his chin, staining the pale blue sheets of his bed linen. His dark hair was dishevelled and poked out in random directions, the pale t-shirt in which he slept was already dirty to begin with but now it had added streaks of blood to the collection.

As Luis pulled the gun away from the man's temple, Rafael brought his up and pressed it firmly into his forehead, ensuring he always felt the steely touch of a pistol. Luis reached down to his leg and pulled the bottom of his jeans up slightly, exposing a knife strapped to his calf. He pulled it from his sheath and held it in front of Marcelo's face, twisting it so it caught the light.

"I imagine you've seen one of these before," started Luis, "There must have been enough of them come through with the deliveries. Personally, I love them, combat knives, they're so versatile. The tip, great for stabbing, very sharp." As he spoke he lightly pressed the tip into the exposed arm of the man lying beneath him, drawing a small drop of blood, "This edge, very fine, great for slicing," Luis drew the edge of the blade across the man's arm, causing a shallow gash that oozed red and produced a sob from Marcelo, "But this edge, the serrated edge, this is my favourite. Do you know why? It's great for sawing."

As Luis made to bring the blade towards Marcelo again, he sobbed heavily and cried out, "Oh, God, please no! Stop! I will tell you... Everything, just please... Do not hurt me anymore..."

"Good decision, Marcelo," added Rafael, "You tell us what we need to know and you don't have to suffer any more pain. It's a win-win!"

"Exactly," nodded Luis, "All you have to do is answer our questions and I promise there'll be no more pain. So, you have been handling weapons shipments for _ETA_, haven't you?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. And all of these weapons have to end up somewhere, like some sort of storage area, don't they?"

"Yes. We can't just keep them around the house."

Luis and Rafael both let out low chuckles as the elder boy spoke again, "Exactly. You're doing well, Marcelo, just one more question now. So where is this storage area, this stockpile of weapons?" The man was silent again as his brain worked overtime, "Don't make me use the knife again, Marcelo."

"No!" he squealed, "Please, I was just thinking... we have a few stockpiles."

"Oh, a few?" commented Rafael, "_ETA _has been busy, haven't they?"

"There are a few places we store weapons, but there is one main area."

"And, where might that be, Marcelo?" Luis asked, taking his combat knife and pressing the flat of the blade against the man's cheek.

"At the port." Marcelo squirmed, trying to rid his cheek of the blade's touch, but it followed him. "There's a cargo ship there, the _Euskaldunak_, all the weapons are stored in containers aboard that ship."

"Ah, naming it after the Basque people," Luis chuckled, amused. The name of the ship, when translated, literally meant 'the speakers of the Basque language'. "A nice touch."

"You speak Basque?" Marcelo was shocked, as the conversation up to this point had taken place entirely in Spanish.

"Shh," Luis brought the knife off of Marcelo"s cheek and placed it across his lips, bringing his gun up to the side of the man's head. He muttered the final three words of the man's life in Basque, "Don't tell anyone."

There was a soft *PLIP* as Luis pulled the trigger of his weapon, the silencer on his gun masking all but the smallest of sounds as it fired a round into Marcelo's temple, killing him instantly. Blood burst from the entry wound, splashing up and around the pillow, but it was the other side that caused the most mess. When someone inevitably found the body and went to move it, the right side of Marcelo's head would be a mixture of brain matter and shattered skull, the bullet having caused much more destruction on its exit than entry.

"Harsh," commented Rafael as he stood up from the bed, straightening out his hoody and inspecting it for blood.

"We don't need him alerting anyone the minute we're out the door."

"Could have knocked him out and tied him up. Much less messy."

"And risk him waking up at some point?" Luis shot back. Even through the balaclava the gaze on the elder boy's face was intense, almost scary, "Besides, that fuck deserved it. Starting shit in his own country, pitting his own people against each other..."

Luis let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, as they descended the stairs and retraced their steps towards the back door. Although Rafael had only begun to interact personally with Luis for a little over six months, he knew enough about him to not push the issue. Instead, he focused on the developing mission.

"So how are we getting to the Port? We're down in fucking San Ignacio of all places, it's over ten kilometres from here, we'll never make it in time." Rafael's mind clicked into gear as they stepped out of the backdoor and gently pulled it shut behind them, "Of course, we can steal a car! Little bit of grand theft auto never hurt anyone. Plus, we just killed a dude, so I guess we might as well add that to our list for tonight."

"No." Luis shook his head slowly, "We don't need to risk that, we've still got over three hours 'til they're on the move and we can't afford the extra attention. We're taking those."

Rafael followed where Luis was looking as he pulled off his balaclava before gazing back at him with an exasperated look on his face, "Fucking bikes? You serious Lu?"

"Serious as a heart attack. Move it, Rafa, the quicker we get there the better."

"Which is why we should be taking a car," the younger boy huffed as he grabbed one of the bikes.

Luis hopped the fence and Rafael passed the two bikes over to him, trying to make as little noise as possible. The two boys wheeled the bikes out of the tight alley before hopping on to them and setting off at a furious pace towards the port in the northern part of town.

They covered the eleven or so kilometres to the port in just over half an hour, pedalling the bikes as fast as they could to give themselves as much time as possible at the other end. As they rode up the main carriageway that ran parallel with the dockyards, they spotted the ship easily.

"You reckon that's it?" Rafael asked as the two boys pulled their bikes to a stop.

"Without a doubt. Name's on the side."

Rafael's eyes scanned the rusting hull of the ship before they came to rest on a set of large white block captials, "_Euskaldunak. _That's our baby. Doesn't look like it's moved in years, the damn thing's near on falling apart."

"They don't need it to move. Just a big storage area hiding in plain fucking sight. Besides, as soon as that left Basque waters it would have so many Spanish officials crawling all over it searching the damn thing, it would look like an ant's nest."

"Which begs the question, how the fuck has _ETA_ managed to smuggle all their weaponry into Basque country?"

"That's not our problem. We just need to make sure we destroy as much of it as possible before another civil war explodes on this shithole continent."

Rafael was a little surprised at the harsh edges to Luis' tone, but he couldn't really argue with the older boy; it seemed as though the world was unravelling at the seams lately, and anything they could do to stop the rot would go a long way.

"So how we gonna do this?"

"First, we've got to dump these bikes."

A five minute detour into a housing estate rid the two boys of the bikes and they were soon strolling back down the road bordering the port. Their heads might have been buried deep inside the hoods of their tops, but their eyes constantly scanned into the dockyard. They walked for another ten minutes, picking out every detail they could. Suddenly, Luis nudged Rafael's arm as he bent down and fiddled with his shoe, pretending to fix his laces.

"You see what I'm seeing?"

"There's security fucking everywhere, no way we're gonna just stroll in the front gate and peel off from there."

"Exactly. We need to get off this road, way too many cars rolling past, even at this time."

"There's a junction another five minutes up the road. Break off there and find a spot to jump the fence?"

"Lead the way Rafa."

Rafael led the two of them at a brisk pace further on up the road towards a large roundabout. A small road led into the port while the main road continued on past it, curving away from the compound. They dropped off of the pavement and started walking across the grass, passing the entrance and carrying on for another ten minutes, putting distance between themselves, the port entry and the main road.

"It's not exactly a big fence, is it?"

Rafael gently slowed his walk to a stop and turned to face Luis before glancing up at fence. Ten feet of chain-link topped with a few strands of barbed wire was all that separated them and the dockyards inside of the port.

"It's not like they really need it," shrugged Luis, "Guards with AK's tend to put off most trespassers." He hitched off his backpack and took off his jumper before looking back at Rafael, "Ready?"

The younger boy nodded, doing the same and removing his backpack and hoody as Luis began climbing the fence. The two boys laid their jumpers across the barbed wire when they got to the top, allowing them to easily roll over it and drop to the other side, snatching their tops back on the way down.

They sprinted to the nearest available cover, the start of a large collection of shipping containers, making their way deeper and deeper into the rows, staying in the shadows before they stopped and put their jumpers and rucksacks back on. Both boys removed their pistols from the back of their jeans and checked the silencers were still firmly attached before confirming a round was chambered.

"Let's fucking do this," Rafael grinned, as he pulled his balaclava back on, Luis doing the same, "Lead on, Reaper."

Luis let a smirk creep over his face at the mention of his nick-name. Luis Fernando Rodriguez, _The Grim Reaper_. It had a nice ring to it and he'd grown to appreciate the nick-name over the couple years it had been in use, even if Malakai still occasionally called him Bodycount.

They nodded to each other and Luis took point as they worked their way through the maze that was the stack of shipping containers. The inside of the arrangement was dead, but once they reached the edge and took a look across the open expanse of the rest of the port, they made out more than a dozen AK-47 toting guards.

"You think they're _ETA_?" asked Rafael as they retreated a few steps back around the corner of a container stack and out of sight.

"I'm not gonna be asking them, put it that way. Remember, if they spot us, aim two for centre-mass and finish with a head-shot when you're close enough to not miss."

"What if they've got Kevlar?"

"Still gonna knock the wind out of them. But let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Rafael nodded back at the older boy, calming his breathing before they stepped out and began to venture through the dockyard proper. The _Euskaldunak _was anchored out a little way across the bay with a thin access road leading out from the main land of the port and wrapping its way around the far side of the ship. A loading crane stood disused on the deck of the massive container ship and more freight containers were stacked on it, creating the appearance of a high-rise city skyline that was formed out of the dull coloured metal blocks.

To reach the access road they had to navigate back past the entrance, past the security buildings just inside of that and then across an open expanse of roadway that provided easy travel around the port. The two boys crept slowly and quietly through the warren of small hut-like buildings that comprised the security checkpoint near the entrance, deciding this was the lesser of two evils when compared to the open roadway. There might be a greater chance of bumping into someone here, but there were also a lot more shadows to stay hidden in.

Having made it to the far side of the little complex, they were still faced with more than five-hundred metres of open roadway between them and the access road leading down to the ship. Even if they somehow made it across the roadway without being seen, the access road leading out across the bay and towards the ship still contained zero cover for them to hide in.

"How the fuck are we getting across this," grumbled Rafael, his eyes scanning for a solution. It was a low mumble, more for his own benefit than anyone else's, "We'll be spotted the second someone looks our way. Could we swim for it? What about if we..."

"We're gonna drive."

While Rafael had been looking out across the small expanse of water between where they were hidden and the side of the boat, Luis had been retracing a few steps back into the small complex of buildings. He'd been back, figured out his plan and returned all without the younger agent knowing he was gone.

"Say what?" Rafael spluttered.

"Drive," repeated Luis, "There's a couple of jeeps parked up back by the main hut, we're gonna take one of them. It'll look just like a couple of guards doing the rounds and checking up on shit."

"You got a set of keys to go with this plan?"

"I will in two minutes," Luis replied, pulling off his balaclava and pushing it into the back pocket of his jeans, "Stay hidden; make your way to the jeeps when you hear one start up."

"Why do I have to stay hidden? And why have you taken your balaclava off?"

"Because if someone sees me walking around in a balaclava they'll definitely know something is up. Just stay hidden for two more minutes, Rafa."

As Rafael slunk back into the shadows of the compound, Luis casually strolled back towards the main security hut. It was a small two-storey affair made out of converted shipping containers, stacked on top of each other and connected by removing the doors at the ends of them. The bottom of the stack housed a small generator and doubled as a little supply room, while the top level of the stack contained a small office, reached by going up a metal staircase attached to the side of the containers.

There was nobody in sight as Luis walked lazily across the compound towards the light spilling out of the two small windows set into the side of the office container. He knew he was taking a giant risk, but they weren't going to be able to sneak across to the ship on foot, so this was the only viable option. He jacked his hood up and pulled it tight over his head as he reached the steps, shading his face slightly as he slipped the hand gripping his pistol into the front pocket of his hoody.

He walked lightly up the metal steps leading to the door, trying to cause as little noise as possible as his trainers rattled the staircase. Even so, there was enough noise to alert the two people inside the office and they were both turned to the door as Luis opened it and strode in.

"Sorry I'm late guys," Luis announced, in Basque, "You wouldn't believe the traffic out there, even at this time."

"What are you talking about?" one of the men replied, "Who are you?"

In the brief seconds between walking into the office and the little conversation Luis had scoped out every corner of the small room. There was one man sitting on a plastic chair behind a little desk pushed up to the side of the office and the other was standing to one side of it. There was a bunch of papers spread out across the desk and the two must have been studying them just before he came in.

Instead of words, Luis' reply was to quickly draw the pistol from the front pocket of his hoody, grasped in one hand as he spread his feet, settled his balance and fired. His first target was the man who was standing, as he was closer, providing more of a threat. The round left the gun with a soft *PLIP* smashing into the centre of the man's forehead. Even though Luis had told Rafael to aim for centre-mass, i.e. the chest, and then finish up with a head-shot from touching distance, he was automatic from this range, a little over five metres away, with no wind to speak of in the enclosed office.

Even before the first man had hit the floor, Luis was turning, the grip on the gun relaxed and easy, as if it were an extension of his body rather than a foreign object. There was just enough time for the man in the chair to begin rising as Luis fired, the bullet ripping through the dead centre of his face, throwing him backwards as it killed him.

Both men were dead before they knew it and Luis stepped around the rapidly expanding pools of blood as he searched for a set of keys to one of the three jeeps parked out in front of the stack. Within seconds he found what he was looking for; rings of keys hooked onto bits of metal protruding from the side of a notice board. He snatched the first set, taking note of the registration plate printed in small black letters above the hook and strolled back out of the office, hitting the lights as he went.

The jeeps looked like they were old army models, with open sides and canvas coverings, useful in a hot country when there was no air-con in the car. Luis identified the one that matched his set of keys and hopped in, starting up the engine. Within seconds Rafael had appeared at the other side of the car, climbing in and pulling his balaclava off.

"Much trouble?"

"Nope." Luis shook his head as he lightly gunned the engine and rolled the jeep out and through the complex onto the open roadway, "But we'll have to move quickly because I spilled some coffee."

"How many cups?"

"Just the two."

Rafael chuckled lightly to himself at their little exchange, "The Grim Reaper strikes again."

They drove the rest of the way in silence, Luis keeping the jeep at a normal pace to avoid arousing any extra attention and they reached the cargo ship in a few long minutes, stopping the jeep at the bottom of an access ramp leading up to the deck. The two boys got out and Luis yanked the keys from the ignition, the other hand snatching up the gun from the dashboard.

"Follow my lead," Luis told Rafael as they began up the ramp, "I've only seen one guard on the deck, but if you see any others, shoot first and ask questions later, got it?"

"Got it," nodded Rafael as they reached the top of the ramp. They emerged onto a deck filled with shipping containers, some stacked on top of others up to six high, while a few remained on their own.

Luis spotted the guard wandering along the deck around twenty metres away, his back to them as he strolled slowly, an AK-47 strung on a shoulder strap balanced in his hands across his chest.

"Hey!" Luis shouted in Basque to attract the guard's attention. He turned to face them, confusion showing on his face, "We're here to relieve you, got an early shift change, jeep's down by the ramp."

As Luis finished, he flung the set of keys towards the guard, lofting them up to make them easy to catch. When the guard's attention shifted to the keys in an attempt to snatch them, he brought his other hand up and fired off two quick shots to the man's body, knocking him down. The guard hit the deck before the keys reached him and they rattled with a metallic clink as they dropped onto the deck behind the downed man. He wore no body armour, but Luis took no chances and walked over to him, firing a round into the man's head, leaving no room for error.

Rafael watched with a mixture of fascination tinged with horror that was in turn drowned out by intrigue, similar to how he had reacted in the house with Marcelo. Rafael himself had killed two people while out on a mission, but they were in the middle of a fire fight with adrenalin coursing through his body, reacting more through instinct than anything else. The way Luis had calmly dispatched his fourth kill in the span of an hour intrigued him. He knew plenty of agents now that had killed on missions, but he knew many of them admitted that they thought about it much more than they let on.

Luis on the other hand, it didn't seem to affect him in any way at all. He was unfazed by the dead body at his feet and the pool of blood that seeped from it as he snatched the keys back up off the ground and turned towards Rafael. He wanted to ask him how he did it, but he knew that it was a conversation for another time and also that Luis never really liked to discuss details like that, especially with a new agent he had known properly for less than a year.

"We need to start searching these crates," Luis announced as he stepped back over the body and walked towards Rafael, "Make sure the weapons are actually on board."

"No time like the present," Rafael breathed as he turned to the nearest crate, raising the two levers that secured the door and twisting them, unhinging the locks. He pulled on the handles and the door swung slowly open, dimly revealing the contents.

"Jesus, Mary and motherfucking Joseph."


	2. Three For The Ready, Fuck It, Let's Go

**2. ...Three For The Ready, Fuck It, Let's Go.**

"And this is just the first crate."

Luis and Rafael stared into the shipping container, studying the contents in awe. Rows and rows of explosives greeted them, ranging from stacks of C-4 to a collection of high-explosive anti-tank warheads.

"That is a shit-load of boom-boom," breathed Rafael, coherent speech temporarily evading him.

"We've got to patch this through to Chris. Get your specs out."

As Rafael rummaged through his bag Luis took out a small mobile phone, dialling in a number from memory and hitting the call button. The person on the other end picked up after a single ring.

"Luis, what's the word?"

The man on the other end of the line was Christian Howard, the two boys' mission controller. A former CHERUB agent himself, he had jumped at the chance to become a mission controller when offered the job eight years ago. Since then he had distinguished himself as one of the best and was well liked by all the agents who worked with him on missions. He was never flustered, no matter how bad the situation appeared and his fast thinking and logical approach to things had served him well, initially as an agent and now as a controller. It also helped that his perfectly enunciated English was an ever-calming influence on agents under his control.

"Got a couple of GLASS patches for you to pick up," Luis replied, switching back to English. He pulled a small box out of his backpack, tilting it so that he could read the print on the side of it, "Serial numbers six-eight-two-three, dash, Alpha and..." he paused as Rafael threw his now-empty box over to him, "Five-three-nine-two, dash, Charlie."

"Excellent, I'll pick you up on the microphones."

With that Luis ended the call, stuffing the phone back into his pocket and opening the box he had removed from his backpack. Inside was what at first glance appeared to be a normal pair of glasses. Closer inspection however revealed the equipment to be a military-grade specification of technology that had first appeared years ago when Google debuted their revolutionary glass.

A camera mounted on the bridge of the frames recorded everything the user saw and beamed it up to a relay satellite that would then push the feed out to whoever had the correct security clearance to pick up the transmission. Along with this, the satellite link would also identify whatever the user was looking at and bring up a small read-out on the GLASS unit. In this case it would be extremely helpful in identifying what types of weapons _ETA_ had in the containers.

Luis quickly donned his pair and flicked the torch light on, finding that Rafael had already done the same and was investigating further through the container. A few seconds later he heard a crackle from the earpiece mounted on the frame before Chris' voice came through.

"Signal is looking strong boys, what have you got for me?"

"What haven't we got for you, more likely," chuckled Rafael, "You seeing all this?"

"I am indeed, Rafael," replied Chris, "But you have got to stop flicking your head around, I cannot accurately make out what I am looking at through your feed. I have a good idea from Luis' feed though- Good Lord, are they what I think they are?"

"Yeah," Luis answered, keeping his head still as he looked at what he assumed Chris had exclaimed about, "HEAT missiles. Russian-issue anti-tank, pretty high grade shit. _ETA_ has some serious weaponry here and this is just the first container we opened. Wanted you to have a live feed while we popped some more."

"You best get to work then, I have only got this connection secure for a further five minutes."

"You got it boss man." Rafael nodded as they both made their way back out of the container and branched off in opposite directions.

The two boys made their way down the stacks, opening up as many containers as they could in the five minutes that they had. Inside each one were assortments of weapons, each container housing a certain type, as if they'd already been sorted and split up. It wasn't just a random jumble of guns, they were organised and packed away neatly. Once the connection dropped out the two boys packed the high-tech glasses back into their bags as a call came through onto Luis' phone.

"Well the agents over here at _CNI_ are in a bit of a state," began Chris, "From what we have seen _ETA _has got enough weaponry to fit out a small army, and our men are not too happy about it, as you can imagine."

"We haven't even opened a quarter of the containers either," Luis cut in, "They've been doing some serious stockpiling."

"It would appear so," replied Chris, "Which means we have got to deal with this situation fast. Your intel states there is a possibility that _ETA _wants to move a shipment at oh-five-hundred this morning, so that provides us a little less than two hours to secure this."

"I might have an idea. Regarding how we should go about doing that. I don't suppose you've got an explosive expert handy over there at _CNI_ do you?"

"What have you got in mind Luis?"

"That first container we opened had a large amount of C-4 sitting in it. There's enough of it to wipe this ship out five times over."

"We blowing shit up?" Rafael cut in, overhearing Luis talk about the C-4. The elder agent waved a hand at him to quieten down as Chris replied.

"That could work. Hold on, I'm going to put you on speaker so _CNI_ know what is going on."

A few long minutes later and Luis snapped the phone shut, stuffing it back into his pocket. It was decided that they were going to be leaving nothing to chance with the weapons so they would be setting up charges around and inside the containers as well as placing a large one down in the depths of the ship. This final charge would hopefully blow a hole through the hull below the waterline and flood the ship, sinking it and destroying anything the blasts didn't take out.

The two boys quickly set about their work, planting explosive in all the necessary places on the deck before making their way down into the bowels of the ship with the rest of the C4. Following the instruction from the phone call with _CNI_ they found the appropriate place to set the last charge.

Once they had finished, Rafael stood up with a broad grin on his face as he flicked the top on the detonator, "Can't wait until we get to send this place sky high. It's going to be one of a hell of a bang."

"Don't set it off while we're still on board," snapped Luis, making to take the detonator from Rafael, but they both froze as they heard loud shouts from above deck, "Fuck. They're early."

"And by the sounds of it they've found that you've spilt the coffee."

Both boys reached for their guns, pulling them out from where they'd been stuffed into their jeans, making sure ammunition was correctly loaded before they silently nodded to each other.

"If we can get up to the bridge we'll be able to see what we're dealing with," whispered Luis, gesturing for them to start off down a corridor.

They crept slowly through the depths of the ship, making their way to the far end before climbing the levels up the stairs, eventually emerging onto the deserted bridge of the ship. Staring over disused banks of controls and a dust-covered captain's chair, the two boys walked across to the far end, looking out through the glass, surveying the deck below them.

"There's only a couple of them," commented Rafael as he studied the pair of men on the deck below him. They were standing over the dead body of the guard Luis had killed and one was speaking into a walkie-talkie.

"There'll be dozens here any minute though, we need to disappear. Quickly."

"Where to? Back into the city?"

"No." Luis shook his head, "Once word spreads it'll be too dangerous to be in Bilbao. We need to get out of Basque country."

"So do we get to steal a car now?" asked Rafael, excitedly.

"Nope." Luis again shook his head. While Rafael had been busying studying the deck of the ship, the older boy had once again looked further, his mind working furiously to formulate a plan for their escape, "We're going to steal a boat."

Rafael followed where Luis was pointing, a small dock with a cluster of speedboats tied up to it protruded from the edge of the port a short way across the roadway from the complex of security buildings near the entrance.

"You know how to hotwire a boat?"

"Unfortunately not." Luis shook his head as he pulled something from his pocket, "But I do have a key for one. Swiped it from the office along with the jeep keys; they must use the boats to move across the bay quickly."

"Shit, Lu," chuckled Rafael, "You're three steps ahead of everyone else. Where we heading to once we're on the water?"

"The Basque border is a little under ten k's from here and there's a small town called Castro Urdiales a bit further on up the coast that the Spanish military have a naval force based out of. If we can make it into Spanish water and get word through to them we should be safe."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Rafael grinned, liking the plan, "Let's get ourselves a boat."

Luis let a small smile play across his face at the younger agent's enthusiasm before refocusing himself and taking one last look out across the deck, "Let's do it."

With that the two boys took off back towards the stairs, keeping their steps light and the noise minimal. They emerged back out onto the deck level but stayed in the shadows of the corridor, cautiously checking for the two guards.

"Shit, where are they?" whispered Rafael. There was no sign of anyone but the dead body on the deck.

"Sweeping the ship," Luis replied, "Could be in amongst the containers. We've got to move, I don't want them finding the charges while we're still onboard."

Rafael instinctively checked his pocket for the detonator, finding comfort in the solid device nestled in the front right pocket of his jeans. Without a word they began out of the corridor, walking out onto the deck, hugging close to anything they could use for cover. They constantly scanned for any sign of the two other guards, straining their ears for footsteps or pieces of conversation that would give away their position.

There was nothing though and they soon reached the dead guard again. Luis stopped, bending down to the body and grabbed the AK-47 from where it had fallen, slipping the strap across his shoulder and slinging the gun over his back.

"What are you doing?" whispered Rafael; eyes fixed ahead looking for any sign of trouble.

"Levelling the playing field," replied Luis, sifting through the man's pockets, oblivious to the blood he was smearing across his hands. His search produced an extra two magazines of ammunition and he jammed them into one of the back pockets of his jeans, before tapping Rafael lightly on the back, "Keep moving."

They took off slowly, keeping low and in the shadows of the large stacks of containers, guns gripped firmly out in front of them, their eyes constantly searching for any sign of movement. They covered the last twenty metres to the ramp off the deck without incident, turning to make their way down it and off the ship.

As soon as they stepped out into the open they heard the unmistakeable sound of automatic fire and felt the heat as bullets started pounding into the deck and whistling through the air around them.

"Move it!" Luis yelled, shoving Rafael in the back, forcing him into a sprint to the jeep as the bullets continued raining down on them.

Rafael reached the cover of the vehicle a split second before Luis, sliding down and around the end of it, shielding himself from the hail of metal that was being sent their way. Unfortunately for the older agent, that split second of extra exposure was all it took for things to go from bad to worse. As he rounded the end of the vehicle he felt a sudden flare of intense heat in his right arm.

"Shit," Luis breathed as he dropped to the ground behind one wheel of the jeep, finally reaching the safety of cover.

"What?" asked Rafael, turning his attention away from trying to identify where the attack was coming from, "Fuck."

Luis looked down at his arm and saw that he had been very lucky. The bullet had only grazed his arm, burning a small path across the surface of his triceps as it punched through any obstacles on its journey. Blood oozed from the wound, but it wasn't very deep; it wouldn't hinder him apart from the pain. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to block it out as much as he could.

"Only clipped me." Luis grimaced. He poked his head back around the jeep to try and locate the two marksmen, "We need to get the fuck out of here."

"You want that thing bandaged first?" asked Rafael, his eyes glued to the wound on the elder boy's arm.

"No time." Luis shook his head, "We need to be out of here before they put too many holes in our ride." He fished into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the jeep, "You're driving. Get her started up and whatever you do, don't hesitate."

The younger boy nodded, accepting the keys and waiting as Luis shuffled along to the front of the jeep, taking cover behind the bonnet of the vehicle. Once there he nodded to Rafael who jumped into the cab and clambered over the passenger seat, sliding into the driver's side and began frantically searching for the ignition.

When they had seen movement again, the two guards had opened fire, hoping to get lucky with a shot as they held the triggers down. Unfortunately for them they had set up position on top of a stack of freight containers that were down the far end of the deck, around two-hundred and fifty metres away. An AK can reliably hit a target up to four-hundred metres away, but it's almost impossible if you just hold down the trigger on full-auto. By spraying and praying, the pair of guards were sending bullets everywhere but where they were aiming.

This meant the two boys were relatively safe and all it ended up doing for the two guards was light up their location and provide an easy target to aim for. Bringing his recently acquired assault rifle up to his shoulder, Luis switched into single-round mode and squeezed the trigger lightly. The gun kicked against his shoulder as it loosed a bullet and he took a second to steady himself and get into a stronger stance.

As a bullet slammed into the bonnet inches in front of his face, the hail of fire from above stopped as the two guns ran their ammunition dry. A savage grin threatened to appear as Luis imagined the look on the two guards faces as they frantically scrambled for another magazine to reload with. He exhaled deeply before firing a five-round burst towards the position of the two men, his finger rapidly twitching on the trigger. The last round left his gun as the engine in front of him rumbled to life, coinciding with one of the bullets finding its mark, smashing into the body of one of the men on top of the container stack, sending him tumbling to the deck below.

"Let's go!" Rafael yelled from inside the jeep as Luis scrambled around and threw himself into the vehicle.

The younger boy floored the accelerator even as Luis was only halfway inside the cab, forcing him into his seat. No further gunfire followed them from the ship, but as they rounded the far end of the floating hulk of metal and turned a sharp corner on the access road, they were met with the sight of another jeep screaming towards them.

"Gun it, Rafa," growled Luis as he switched the AK in his hands to fully-automatic.

Rafael obliged and the engine roared louder as his foot met the floor, increasing their speed towards the onrushing vehicle. The access road they were on was barely wide enough for the two jeeps and they were both racing down the middle of it, neither giving any ground. The blood seeping down Luis' arm had reached his hand, causing the warm liquid to run over the handle of his assault rifle, making it slick to the touch, but he gripped it with a confidence that only years of weapons training can give a person.

He leaned out of the side of the jeep, bracing himself against the seat and brought the assault rifle up to aim, squeezing the trigger and sending a flurry of bullets towards the other jeep. The recoil was slightly more than Luis was expecting and most of the shots sailed high. He quickly corrected though and the next burst of fire found its mark, smashing through the windshield and crashing into the bonnet of the approaching vehicle.

As the bullets buried themselves into metal and glass, Luis running the rest of the magazine dry, the jeep swerved from the road, flying off the side of it and into the water. Either the driver had been hit and slumped across the wheel, or he had decided that he'd rather take his chances plunging into the sea than continue into an onrush of hot lead.

"Jesus Christ," Rafael breathed as he glanced across to where the other jeep had left the road, "Nice shooting."

"Don't slow down," replied Luis, fishing into his back pocket for a spare magazine, flinging the empty one out of the door. After he jammed a full magazine into the assault rifle, Luis wrenched back the charging handle to prime the gun as Rafael whipped the jeep around the end of the access road to the ship, speeding their way to where the speedboats were moored.

"Which boat are we going for?" asked Rafael as he eyed up the six boats tied to a small jetty around five-hundred metres from where they were. It was directly across the roadway from where the small complex of security buildings was and he was very aware of the commotion coming from that area and the presence of a lot more gun-toting guards.

"Not a fucking clue," admitted Luis, "It's just got a tag that says 'Boat Three' on it." He pulled the key from his pocket, passing it over to the younger boy who took it and stuffed it into a pocket of his jeans, "Pull up right next to the jetty and find that fucking boat as quickly as you can. I'll see if I can keep them from getting too close."

As they roared towards the jetty and the complex of buildings their presence was noticed and by the time they had pulled up at the end of the solid wooden construction there were more than a dozen assault rifles aimed towards their little jeep.

"You are surrounded!" A voice rang out from the buildings across the roadway, shouting in Basque, "There is nowhere you can go!"

"Find that fucking boat," Luis hissed to Rafael as he pushed him out of the driver's side, following him through as the younger boy sprinted down the jetty to try and find the right boat.

Luis himself slid out and round to the front wheel, taking cover behind the bonnet again. To try and keep Rafael hidden so that they didn't start lighting up the boats, he bounced up from his crouched position and let loose a long burst towards the buildings, not knowing exactly where any of the guards were. Almost immediately they returned fire, bullets slamming into the body of the jeep and forcing Luis back down behind the wheel as hot metal fried the air around him. He didn't dare expose himself from cover as the bullets rained down on him, no break in the volley as guards reloaded at different times.

He let out a large breath as he heard Rafael shout out from the darkness, and the soft rumble of an outboard motor started up, signalling he had found the right boat. As the younger agent pulled off the mooring ropes, his elder counterpart timed his sprint from cover to perfection. Waiting for a drop in the hail of fire as over half of the guards stopped to reload he sprang up from behind the jeep and took off towards the boat.

As he jinked around a mooring post and leapt into the boat he felt the heat as bullet fizzed through the air by his ear. Luis landed with a crash on the floor of the speedboat and Rafael gunned the engine as soon as he saw the boy sprawl onto the floor. The boat was a sleek little two-seat affair, with a small area just behind the two seats that Luis had landed in.

"Any time you want to send this place sky high, feel free to," Luis announced as he straightened himself up, leaning against one side of the boat as it roared out of the bay.

"You got it, Lu," nodded Rafael, fishing into the pocket of his jeans. As Luis grabbed the AK from where it had landed on the floor and watched as some of the guards jumped into more of the boats, the younger boy started his own little countdown, a rhyme that he had picked up from his life before CHERUB, "One for the money. Two for the show. Three for the ready. Fuck it! Let's GO!"

As he counted down, Rafael flicked the cover for the trigger open, exposing a little button on top and then held down a switch on the side of the plastic, lighting up the one on top in a glorious shade of red. With the charges now armed, a smile broke out on the boy's face and as he yelled out the final words he smashed his thumb down onto the trigger, setting off the entire series of strategically placed charges.

To say the explosion was spectacular would be an understatement. An enormous boom rocked the bay as the ship exploded in a giant ball of flame, reaching higher than the tallest container stack. The shockwave flew across the water and slammed into the boat as the heat travelled closely behind it, attacking the two boys.

"Jesus..." Luis breathed as he studied the wreckage. Twisted metal lay in chunks on the ravaged deck, the remnants of freight containers having been mangled and thrown out across the water. A giant hole had opened up in the hull and water rushed in, dropping the ship lower and lower into the water as fires raged across the decks.

"WOOO-WEEE!" Rafael yelled, "I told you that was gonna be one hell of a bang!"

"You weren't wrong," replied Luis. He glanced behind them, seeing three more of the speedboats peeling out from the jetty, "Got three coming for us. Get Chris on the line and tell him where we're headed, I'll hold these guys off."

"No sleep for The Reaper," Rafael chuckled to himself as he pulled his phone from a pocket in his jeans. Flipping through his contacts he quickly found the number for his handler, disguised as a takeaway shop, and smashed the dial button with his thumb. Again, it was picked up after little more than a single ring.

"Rafael, what is the situation? We've just been put on full-alert by units on the border."

"Yeah, that was us. We were pretty generous with the charges."

As the boat flew past the smouldering wreckage of the ship bursts of fire opened up from behind them. Rafael heard a much louder burst as Luis returned fire having wedged himself into a corner at the back of the boat, providing him a stable position to shoot from.

"Was that gunfire?" The phone crackled as Chris' voice came through it.

"Yeah, lots of it. We've stolen a speedboat and we're getting out of Basque country across the water. Apparently the Spanish military have some boats stationed out of Castro Urdiales, think you can get word through to them?"

"_CNI_ are on it now," Chris replied after briefly shouting something off-phone, "How far from Spanish waters are you?"

"Not even out of the harbour yet," replied Rafael as they sped past a few smaller cargo vessels docked to their right. There was still over a kilometre of water between them and the harbour's mouth as he heard Luis shout something at him, "Shit, hold on."

Rafael turned to see what Luis was yelling about and noticed that there were now only two boats following them. The Grim Reaper was taking names tonight.

"I need your pistol mags!" Luis shouted again at Rafael, "AK's empty!"

Rafael shrugged his backpack off as a couple of volleys of automatic fire got way too close for comfort, a few bullets slamming into the hull of the speedboat. He slid the backpack along the floor of the boat towards Luis, pointing at it.

"Mags are in the front pocket of the pack!"

As Rafael returned to updating Chris on what was happening, Luis had pulled the pistol from his jeans and unscrewed the silencer before jamming a fresh clip into it. He took a deep breath, steadying his aim. All he had was the pistol and he was staring down the barrels of seven further AK-47s, all intent on blowing holes in himself and the younger agent driving the getaway boat.

Luis let off a few rounds towards the nearest boat before a bullet whistled past him and thumped into the lining of the boat just behind him. He didn't flinch, instead upped his rate of fire, emptying the entire clip, one bullet managing to bury itself into a man's shoulder. Pushing himself lower to cover himself behind the edge of the boat he pulled a fresh magazine from where had laid them all out. He had just three left on the floor after loading one into the pistol and with each magazine only housing twelve bullets, there wasn't much to hold off the two boats with.

"You get this thing to go any faster, Rafa!?" Luis yelled as he let off a few more rounds towards the chasing boats.

"Don't want to roll the fucking thing. We're already jumping waves as it is!"

As if to emphasise his point the boat made a particularly hard landing on one wave, jarring Luis as it knocked him against the side of the boat. He couldn't help but see the funny side, as if Mother Nature herself were answering his question.

"Point taken," mumbled Luis. He let off a few more bullets at the boats as they roared out of the harbour and into the open sea, "You get word through to the Spanish?"

"Yeah," Rafael nodded as a bullet smacked into the windshield around the passenger seat, smashing it and sending glass everywhere, "Son of a bitch!"

"Keep it together, Rafa," shouted Luis, "We'll be out of the shit once they see the boats roll up."

"We've got to make it all the way to Spanish waters for that to happen."

"What!? They not sending anyone out to us?"

"They scrambled a couple of fast attack craft, but they won't come into Basque waters. Said it would count as an act of war and they don't want to push that right now."

"Fucking hell..." Luis seethed, pausing their conversation to empty another magazine at the chasing boats, a few rounds smashing into the hull of one of them. He loaded a fresh clip as he turned back to Rafael, "We just took out most of their weapons for God's sake! The least they could do is make sure we get home in one fucking piece."

"We'll make it," Rafael replied, the complete faith in his words clearly evident. A wild grin spread across his face as he spoke, "_La Parca siempre gana_."

The grin spread to Luis' face as he realised where Rafael's confidence stemmed from. The gun flashed hot in his hand as he directed fire towards the closest boat, hitting one of the men on board square in the head.

"_La Parca siempre gana_."


	3. Welcome To Gold

**3. Welcome To Gold.**

"I must say, even by your standards, this was some impressive work."

A small smile spread across Luis' face as he accepted the compliment. He was back on CHERUB campus, sitting in the Chairwoman's office, relaxing back into one of the plush chairs that were situated across from the large oak desk that dominated the spacious room.

Luis and Rafael had managed to make it to Spanish waters where they and the two chasing boats were met by three Spanish Navy fast attack craft, fully fitted out for ship-to-ship combat. Finding themselves severely outgunned the two Basque boats surrendered, though only five of the original nine occupants of the vessels were still alive.

After receiving treatment for his gunshot wound back at the military base in Castro Urdiales, Luis and Rafael were flown in a military helicopter to the Spanish capital of Madrid. There they met up with their mission controller Christian Howard and the _CNI_ agent who had posed as their mother for the mission. Together they sat in on a lengthy debrief with _CNI_ and the Spanish military before being allowed to get some well-earned rest. By midday Luis, Rafael and Chris were on a private jet back to London where they hopped onto another helicopter that took them back to CHERUB campus for another debrief, this time with the senior members of CHERUB staff.

As was usual, once the debrief was finished, the Chairwoman liked to have a few words with each agent, privately. Zara Asker was entering her twenty-first year as the head of CHERUB and in that time she had found that the child agents appreciated these individual chats, where she offered her congratulations or sympathies, whichever was appropriate. She also found that as agents matured they appreciated her insight and often an impromptu discussion would develop.

"You'll be pleased to know that the Spanish are in love with you two." Zara smiled, "I've had the head of _CNI_, the Spanish military's Chief of Staff and the Spanish Prime Minister all on the phone asking me to give you their personal thanks."

"That would explain the mile-wide grin on Rafael's face when he left then," chuckled Luis, a warm smile spreading across his own face.

"It was an incredibly successful mission. You two managed to destroy a vast number of their weapons as well as pass on key information about the updated structure of the main arm of the _ETA_. With the threat of all-out violence dissipated for now, the Spanish government seem confident they can bring a close to things without too much more blood being spilled."

"Do you think they'll grant the Basques independence? Or are they looking to keep them Spanish?"

"That is a discussion for a different time." This was one of the things that impressed her about Luis; where many agents would be content with collecting the praise handed out to them, he was still interested in the consequences of his actions on a much more involved scale, "But I can keep you updated if I hear anything that develops?"

She doubted that she'd learn anything about the situation any quicker than he would through world news sites and programmes, but it brought a smile to Luis' face.

"I'd like that," he nodded, "I don't think the Basques are wrong to want some sort of independence or recognition, they're just going about it the wrong way."

"So you don't hold any grudges against the Basque people?"

"Why would I?" Luis shrugged, "We were dealing with a radical group. Do you think differently of the Irish in general because of the IRA?"

"I don't think they ever got close to a full-scale mobilisation and arming of their people though."

"I guess. But how many regular Basques do you think would have actually picked up guns?"

"I have no idea. And thankfully we will never find out because of the excellent work you and Rafael carried out. Now, how's your arm?"

"Sore," chuckled Luis, fiddling with the bandage around his upper arm, "Fourteen stitches but the medic said it's not overly deep so it should heal pretty quickly."

"Good to hear." Zara smiled, her eyes betraying the caring behind her words, "There's one more thing I need you to do before you relax too much."

"We elevating another black shirt?" Luis asked, instantly seeing where this was heading.

"We are indeed. Your old basic training partner if I'm not mistaken."

"They finally approved Mel?"

"Her last mission was flawless and the doctor approved her psych evaluation, so she's good to go."

As Luis made to stand up to leave, a loud rumble carried throughout the room, originating from his stomach, causing Zara to raise an eyebrow, "You mind if I grab some food first?"

"I'd say that would be a good idea." The Chairwoman nodded, laughing lightly as she bid him farewell, "She's in room two-oh-seven of The School when you finally get to it."

Luis nodded back and headed out of the room. Following the completion of the Campus Village, the main building that housed the old accommodation block had been renovated and the whole top floor was assigned as the Chairwoman's office. In reality there was much more to it than just an office and Luis now found himself striding down a corridor that ran along one edge of the building.

One side of it was entirely glass and it provided a stunning view out across the rest of the campus. He could make out the lake in the distance that made up a section of the open combat simulation zone and the enormous height obstacle course standing just next to it. There were the helipads just off to the left of where he was looking from, all three empty for the moment; the helicopter that had transported Luis back to campus was long gone.

The pool complex stood just behind these, but his gaze was always drawn from that directly to the firing range and armoury that loomed behind it. Luis had logged some serious hours with every weapon he could get his hands on at the firing range and he knew the place like the back of his hand. Hearing his stomach growl again he tore himself away from the view and quickly made his way down to the end of the corridor, hopping into the elevator and riding it to the ground floor.

The rest of the building consisted of the administration and education sections of campus and he inwardly groaned to himself as he realised how much work he would have to catch up on. He had only been back on campus for a week before embarking on the Basque mission, the Spanish government insistent on its urgency, and he had just come off of a four-month mission before that, so he was sure to have a large backlog of study to catch up on.

Exiting the building he immediately started shivering as the whole place was blanketed in a thin film of snow, the temperature well below freezing and he was stood there in nothing but a pair of jeans and an oversized military t-shirt. His hoody and better fitting t-shirt had been disposed of at the military hospital in Castro Urdiales as they were coated in blood from his arm. Deciding the best way to get warm was to get inside as quickly as possible, Luis took off at a run down the main path towards the Campus Village.

He passed by the old, rundown education block to his right, knowing that Mel would be sitting in room two-oh-seven wondering what in the world had happened. After the main building was renovated to house the campus' teaching needs, the old education block was scheduled for demolition. However, it was saved and now served as another combat simulation zone, teaching agents the art of room-to-room warfare and close-quarter combat, earning the nickname The School.

The campus security building was just across the path from it and he quickened his pace as he rounded it and the junior block off to his left passed by in a blur. He felt a small pang of guilt in his chest as he realised he hadn't seen Stacey yet; he promised he'd see her as soon as he got back from the mission, but he'd have to bend that promise slightly as he was starving.

He spotted the mission preparation building a little way in the distance, a massive construction of curving steel and glass. It was nestled in the corner of campus and the path running around it bent at the same angle as the building, blending it in perfectly. Luis upped his pace again and was in a flat-out sprint as he rounded the curve, bearing down on the Campus Village.

As CHERUB expanded, the number of agents within its ranks swelled, causing a requirement for larger living quarters. Rather than continually add on to the existing accommodation in the main building, it was decided to build another complex on the previously unused land behind the mission preparation building and the chapel. The village itself was a series of ten separate housing blocks, each containing enough rooms for two-hundred agents each.

These were arranged in pairs forming a circular pattern around a central courtyard while a huge catering block dominated one of the six arms that spread off from the centre. Luis raced down the pathway towards the courtyard, snow crunching underneath his feet as he came to a halt at the foot of a giant fountain in the centre of the village.

His breathing was ragged and he put his hands on his knees as he sucked in bitingly cold air. It felt good stretching his legs after hours cooped up inside offices and aircraft and he took a minute to catch his breath again. He was cooling down rapidly now and the freezing temperatures were stinging his exposed arms and face, though it had a nice numbing effect on his wound.

Quickly making his way towards the catering block he passed a number of people making their way from it, having finished their dinner. He exchanged greetings with a few of them, but most just stared as he wandered past. As he pushed the door open and walked inside he was met by a rush of warm air and the smell of food, which instantly set his stomach off again. Noticing a clock on the wall told him it was still peak dinner time, he wandered into the main dining hall and was greeted by a sea of faces and a wall of noise as over half of the agents on campus were chowing down.

Luis couldn't have taken more than three steps into the hall before he heard a familiar voice yell out from the middle of the room.

"REAPER ON DECK!"

As heads turned to both where the shout came from and then back towards the door, almost half of the kids shot up from their seats dotted around the room, standing to attention and saluting. An embarrassed smile broke out onto Luis' face as they all continued standing, a few of them wearing gleaming gold t-shirts marking them out as the same rank as him.

"At ease, morons!" Luis shouted back. He had quickly learned how to deal with this particular joke and he turned to head for the food as he shook his head and chuckled, even though his cheeks flushed red. Piling a plate full of meat and vegetables he strolled over to his normal table, dropping into a spare seat.

"And so he returns."

Luis flashed a warm smile at the welcome, looking around at his friends gathered at the table.

The one who had offered the greeting, and led the military style salute as Luis entered the room, was Malakai Duke, his best and closest friend. He had arrived at CHERUB from Africa a few months after Luis, cycling through the same basic training course as him and rising through the ranks of an agent almost as quickly. He always wore a broad grin, flashing perfectly straight pearly whites and he split his time evenly between normal activities and punishment for various pranks or schemes. Luis had spent more than his fair share of time digging out ditches or on washing up duty with him, but Malakai seemed to live his life from one punishment to another.

"Still in his civvies as well," a feminine voice chuckled.

Lucy Romani twirled her fork as she smiled over at Luis. She had short, dark hair that sat in choppy waves across her head and brilliant green eyes that jumped out at you. She'd been a military brat as a young kid, spending significant time in Italy and also happened to be tall for a girl her age, which she enjoyed as it put her on equal footing with many of the boys.

"Only just finished my debrief," replied Luis, as he loaded up a forkful of food, staring at it longingly "And I'm starving."

"You could have at least put something that fit on," another boy laughed, "Have you seen the state of your t-shirt?"

Damian Fisher was the third boy sat at the table and he was considerably shorter than both Luis and Malakai, though he weighed in heavier than either. Built like the proverbial brick shithouse, he was constantly being warned at how he was taking himself out of consideration for missions because of his muscle. However, the boy from Yorkshire took little notice of the warnings, turning to baggy jumpers and t-shirts as a solution, and could often be found in the campus gym.

"Huh?" Luis mumbled, a mouthful of food. He looked down at his t-shirt, noticing that it was a good three sizes too big for him, "Oh yeah, they got rid of my stuff in Spain because it was covered in blood from where I took a bullet."

"You got shot!?" A squeal erupted from the girl sat directly opposite Luis.

Isabella Ruby was, by all accounts, a stunner – and she knew it. Her flame-red hair fell in perfect coils around her shoulders and she had blue eyes that would make a boy drool from fifty metres away. She'd used her looks on more than a few occasions to get her way, but she could also throw a tantrum for the ages if she didn't get what she wanted, an unfortunate trait she carried over from her privileged upbringing.

"What did you think the bandage was for, Iz?" Malakai laughed, "A paper cut?"

"I don't know," huffed Isabella, her hair bouncing as she did so.

"I didn't get properly shot," explained Luis, trying to play it down, "The AK only clipped the back of my arm."

"You got hit with an AK?" asked Lucy, her eyebrows shooting up, "Surprised that didn't take your arm clean off."

"Lucy, don't say that!" Isabella squeaked again. Lucy chuckled as the red-head squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if trying to rid herself of a vision of a one-armed Luis.

"Like I said," Luis cut in, carefully pulling the bandage off and exposing a bright red line across the back of his upper arm that was criss-crossed with stitches, "I only got clipped."

Reactions around the table ranged from Isabella turning away from the wound to Damian leaning in for a closer look.

"Sweet," the stocky boy grinned, "That looks so cool."

"Bodycount clocking up the scars like he does kills," laughed Malakai, slapping his best friend on the back.

Luis smiled in appreciation before changing the subject in between mouthfuls of food, "Where's Jamie and Carly at?"

"Carly shipped out on a new mission to London a few weeks ago and J-Dog's still out in South-East Asia somewhere," replied Malakai.

"Still?" Luis exclaimed, "What's that, six months now?"

"Closing in on seven," corrected Lucy, "Last we heard from him he was in Singapore, but he could have moved by now."

"Jamie Okasawa, international playboy," laughed Malakai, "He does get some pretty shit-hot missions."

"And still no Gold," commented Lucy.

"You think he really minds too much about that though?" asked Isabella, "Jamie's never really liked the types of missions Gold would open up."

"Fair point." Malakai nodded, "Dude doesn't even really like the combat sims."

"Yeah, but they'll be elevating someone soon," Damian cut in, "Jaylen aged out a couple of weeks ago when he got back from his mission."

Luis knew he was about to upset his friend, but he would rather he found out from him than in a couple of days time when he saw a new gold shirt wandering about. Of the five people at the table, Damian was the only one that was still a black shirt and it was no secret that he desperately wanted to be elevated. Unfortunately CHERUB kept a cap on the number of agents elevated to the gold shirt. Luis, despite the two girls being older than him, had been elevated first, earning the shirt a little after his thirteenth birthday. Lucy had got hers next, over a full year after Luis, while Isabella and Malakai elevated at the same time a few months later. Damian was desperate for his, but there were very strict protocols about who got elevated and he was repeatedly being passed over.

"Well, Jamie won't be taking his place," Luis announced, staring down at his food as he spoke, "Zara told me that they've got someone sitting in The School waiting for us."

"What!?" Damian shouted, "Who is it!?"

"Melanie Jacobs."

"Your old basic training partner!?" Damian roared, pushing off from the table and firing his chair backwards as he stood up. It clattered into a nearby table as he fumed, "That is such fucking bullshit!" As hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to face the seething boy, he stomped out of the dining hall, booting the door open on the way out.

"Good to see the lad's still passionate," chuckled Malakai, polishing off the last of the food on his plate before spying the leftovers on Damian's, "You think he's coming back for that?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he reached across and snatched the plate, plopping it down on top of his own empty one as Lucy shook her head and sighed, "He'll be in a mood for days now."

"He'll get over it," announced Malakai between mouthfuls of food, waving his fork in the air in a dismissive manner, before turning to Luis, "The more important thing is that since you're the one in the know, Zara put you in charge of elevating her, right?"

"Yup." Luis nodded, chasing the last of his vegetables around the plate, trying to scoop up a few errant bits of sweet corn. He glanced over at Isabella and noticed she was wholly disinterested in the slant the conversation had taken and was staring absent-mindedly out of a window.

"Good," grinned Malakai, "That means The Duke is in, baby! You two coming along as well?"

"I guess there should probably be a couple of girls there as well," nodded Lucy before turning to Isabella, who was still staring out of the window, "Izzy, you there?"

"Huh?" Isabella started as Lucy nudged her in the side, "What?"

"You coming with us?"

"To what?"

"Have you even been listening?" Luis asked, perplexed.

"A bit." Isabella shrugged, "I got bored though. I should probably go now; I just remembered I've got some work I need to do, so have fun with whatever it is you're doing."

With that she got up from the table and strolled out of the dining room, turning more than a few heads as she did so. Malakai and Lucy shared a chuckle with each other while Luis just stared dumbly at the both of them.

"Oh, she's good," the dark-skinned boy nodded.

"Very good," the raven-haired girl agreed.

"What are you guys on about?" Luis asked, still behind on what was happening.

"It's like he's two different people," laughed Lucy as she looked at Malakai, "Two steps ahead on every mission he's on, but one behind when he steps foot on campus."

"What _are_ you on about?" Luis persisted, bewildered.

"You ever get the impression that maybe Isabella doesn't like Melanie too much?" Malakai suggested, emphasising the names.

"Why wouldn't she?" Luis replied, looking between the two remaining people at the table.

"Now that would be telling," grinned Lucy, exchanging a look with Malakai.

"Come on, LuLu," mocked Malakai, slapping Luis on the back as he stood up, "Ha! That works for both of you! Come on, LuLu's, let's go elevate us a new gold shirt."

* * *

The end of the first decade of the 21st century was a rough one for the world. As the financial crisis of 2008 hit, economies around the world were plunged into disarray and chaos soon followed as they failed to recover. Some of the worst hit included many of the central countries that made up the European Union and the failure of these economies and the accompanying bailouts that followed plunged an already struggling Eurozone into financial disarray.

As economies failed to recover and the burden of keeping them afloat fell on others, some of the better off countries started pulling out, plunging the rest into full-on panic. A mere five years after the financial crisis peaked and the EU was in tatters as governments backed out of deals and colluded with others, all in an attempt to keep their own economies above water.

Running concurrently with this was the explosion of violence and revolution in the Arab world at the start of the second decade. Within three years former leaders had been forced out of four countries, while civil uprisings occurred in many more. A further six countries would fall to revolution by the end of the decade in what became widely known as _The Arab Spring_.

This was a nightmare for the USA, as they were still fighting in the Gulf, protecting their investments in Afghanistan and Iraq. As more and more countries in the region were shown to be liberating themselves, the people of the Gulf turned on the Americans, attempting to drive them from their countries. The resulting conflict is now considered the single greatest oversight by a military power since the ill-fated Vietnam War as it effectively bankrupted the leading world superpower by the middle of the second decade.

With the United States now focused on fixing their broken economy and dealing with the fallout from their Gulf War, the world reacted.

Russia made a land-grab for their former Soviet States, reclaiming vast swathes as they met with little resistance. As of the present day, only small regions of the Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova remain free from Russian rule, with fierce fighting occurring in those areas. There is also a tense stand-off occurring along the recently expanded Russian-China borders, both militaries wary of the other. At the same time a Chinese-backed North Korea pounced on South Korea with American attentions turned elsewhere and the region fell under communist rule in a matter of months.

However, the worst affected place was the Central Americas, quickly overtaking Africa as the most violent region on the planet. As the American-funded Mexican war on drugs ran out of money, the country exploded into a full-on warzone. With little now standing in their way, the cartels that formerly controlled Mexico from behind the scenes jumped into full-view. Fighting spread south along the narrow strip of countries that connects the Americas and out-right war was declared between the rival cartels as they fought for control of the region as well as the lucrative supply routes from the south.

And where does CHERUB fit into all of this? As civil wars erupted across Europe, sparked by political unrest in several countries formerly thought secure and the influx of refugees from the east as a result of the Russian land-grab, Britain found itself in a precarious position. They had ridden out the crisis fairly effectively and were now seen as the strongest country in the Eurozone and one of the strongest in the world. This thrust them firmly into the spotlight and the island nation took on the task of piecing the world back together, with undercover children playing a vital role.

However, with increased violence comes increased risk and it was decided by intelligence ministers that many missions that could prove vital had become too much for the child agents to reasonably handle. And so, as the USA crashed into bankruptcy and the Russian advance from the east marched on at the end of the second decade, CHERUB took the decision to begin training their top agents in the art of warfare – kill or be killed.

This new rank – the gold shirt – would be granted to the top 3% of CHERUB agents, although within the boundaries of strict parameters. All agents would now be subject to frequent psychological analysis from the day they stepped foot onto campus in an effort to identify which ones would be best suited to cope with the extra demands. Training exercises for gold shirts would also be much more frequent and their skills would be honed to the highest level.

Despite this, there have been some casualties, although no deaths. Four former agents are currently housed at military institutions suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder, while two have been left with permanent disfigurement to limbs and one was paralysed from the waist down when an extraction went wrong on his mission.

Still, the British government and the Secret Intelligence Service have deemed the work done by these agents too valuable to suspend the program and as of the cold mid-January of 2027, twenty-nine of a little over a thousand CHERUB agents possess a gold shirt. And one more was about to join their ranks.

* * *

Melanie Jacobs had no idea what the fuck was going on.

She had just returned from what, by all accounts, was a highly successful mission infiltrating and neutralising a smuggling ring operating out of France. They were transporting all manner of illegal cargo up from the Mediterranean coast and into what remained of Europe, including the UK, and CHERUB had been tasked with putting a stop to it. In a little under six weeks she had completed the task, crushing the illegal operation.

She'd arrived back from Paris yesterday with her partner, a younger girl, and mission controller to be debriefed and had received high praise on the success of the operation. She'd gone to bed that night feeling content and happy but had woken up to find herself blindfolded and tied to a chair in a room that smelt of burning and cordite.

Whoever had tied her up had done a great job because in the long hours she'd been awake she hadn't managed to loosen any of the binds a single bit. Being blindfolded threw off any idea she had about the passage of time and she had no clue as to where she was. She'd initially consoled herself with the fact that she had fallen asleep on CHERUB campus and that there was no way the whole facility had been overrun. However, she'd shouted herself hoarse and still heard nothing, so doubt was rising quickly, threatening to turn into all out panic.

She was on the edge of losing all hope when faint footsteps started echoing off the walls around her, the noise stinging her ears. A door swung open and the noise deafened her as a number of people clattered into the room. The door crashed close behind her and she heard a thump as something heavy got set down onto the ground, the sloshing sound of water accompanying it.

"Melanie." A feminine voice broke the silence, speaking in French, "You have caused a great many problems for us." She felt the presence of the speaker close in to her, getting so near they were almost touching.

She felt as if she'd taken a vicious punch to the stomach. She had just returned from the south of France after her mission; what if somehow the people she took down had found a way to get to her? But she had gotten back to CHERUB campus, how was this possible?

Another voice started shouting at her, a male one. She didn't understand the language, though it sounded like it might have been Spanish or Portuguese. What she did understand however was the hard slap across the face she received.

"Why did you do this?" A third voice spoke, again in French but with a distinct African dialect.

Shit! She knew that the smugglers had been trafficking up through Africa and then across the Mediterranean and into the south of France. Many of the former French-African colonies still spoke the language, highlighting France as a more attractive destination than a country such as Spain, where the distance to travel across the Mediterranean was much shorter.

Melanie kept quiet, deciding silence was the best cause of action, and then the other man started shouting again. This was what she couldn't figure out: where did he fit into all of this? All of the people she had dealt with on the mission had stuck solely to French. What if the operation was bigger than she thought? She knew that a lot of the South Americas spoke either Spanish or Portuguese, what if they were somehow connected?

Fear was rising inside of her but still she kept quiet and she heard someone pick something up and a single word uttered towards her.

"Puta."

A tiny scream erupted from deep within her as she felt ice-cold water smash into her, flooding over her and for a brief second she was stunned into disorientation, not knowing whether she was still sitting or had been pushed into a river. A half-second later when the water had washed away she realised it had only been a dousing from a bucket and she rushed to regain control of her breathing. The blindfold she had around her was now soaked and it stung her eyes as it attacked them with remnants of the freezing water.

"You will talk to us, Melanie," the feminine French-speaker cooed. She had a calm voice, speaking to her as a mother would to her child when they were upset, "We don't want to hurt you, but we may have to if you don't tell us what we want to know."

"I don't know anything," spat Melanie, defiant.

"Puta!"

Another bucket of ice-cold water smashed over her, but this time she managed to hold in her scream. The second bucket didn't have the shocking effect of the first as she was already cold and wet, but her heart almost stopped as she heard a loud crackling sound.

"You're making Mr. Hernandez very angry by not telling us what you know," the male French voice said, "You know he's come all the way from Mexico to see you, right?"

"Have you heard stories of Mexico, little girl?" Mr. Hernandez spoke. His English was good, but it had that unmistakable Mexican twang to it, "We have very unique ways of making people talk."

Melanie kept her mouth shut and concentrated on nothing else but breathing as she heard the crackle again. She'd been basic training partners with Luis and they'd grown close over the course of the hundred days and the years after, so she'd heard a few stories about his childhood in Mexico. The place he described was not one she would like to get to know, especially not on the level Mr. Hernandez was offering.

"I would not keep Mr. Hernandez waiting any longer," the French woman advised, "He's already very angry at what you have done; you have upset him greatly with your actions. I would not upset him anymore."

"You are a smart girl, Melanie," Mr. Hernandez spoke again, walking towards her as the crackle punctuated his steps, "I assume you know that every action has a reaction, yes? You must also know that you've caused me a great deal of pain with your recent actions. What I want to know is why? Why have you done this to me? If you tell me then maybe you will die a little faster and your pain will be over sooner."

Melanie's heart was beating so fast it was threatening to punch a hole in her chest, but she forced herself to speak calmly, not wanting to betray how terrified she was.

"You don't scare me."

"Oh, I don't?" Mr. Hernandez laughed loudly, the noise reverberating off of all four walls, "I do not scare you, little girl, is that right? Let me tell you something, puta..." He spat the final word with such venom that Melanie flinched slightly, "When I am done, you will be scared of me. You will tell me everything that you have done, how you did it and why you did it. And then you will beg me to end your miserable, pathetic excuse for a life because the pain will be so unbearable that anything would be better, even death."

There was a pause and another bucket of water hit her, drenching her figure, "There is one technique that I like to start with. My father, God rest his soul, taught it to me. Have you figured out what it is yet?" She could feel the man move closer to her and as he swept a hand through her hair and that awful crackle burned her ears again, fear cascaded through her as she realised what was about to happen.

"If you electrocute somebody who is completely dry, it fries them too quickly. But if you drench them with water first, you can prolong their life, extend the pain, save them a bit. Water is a wonderful thing, it gives us life, it lets us exist." She felt a hand cup her cheek and then the cold touch of metal against one of her exposed legs, "But it will also be your enemy, the devil that torments you. The one that ultimately takes your life."

Melanie braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut and tensing every muscle in her body, as if that would in any way help her. She felt the cold metal drilling into her leg and she waited for the inevitable, the sharp crackling that would signal the start of her journey of pain that would ultimately end with death. Time slowed down as the crackling started, the sharp, excruciating snaps that beckoned the arrival of thousands of volts of electricity that began to flow through her.

But it wasn't electricity flowing through her, there was no pain accompanying the sharp crackle and she realised that the hand that was cupping her cheek was still there. It hadn't moved, so why wasn't it being electrocuted? And then she realised that there was no electricity; what was flowing through her was relief, elation and confusion. Suddenly the hand moved and ripped the blindfold from across her eyes, even the dim light in the room momentarily blinding her. The sight that met her was one that filled her with ecstatic joy and her heart leapt as she took in the features that were staring back at her, inches from her face.

"Bienvenidos al Oro, puta."


	4. Two Sides Of The Same Coin

**4. Two Sides Of The Same Coin**

"The look on her face was incredible."

Malakai was splayed out across his bed, textbooks and papers strewn everywhere, calculator to one side of him and was nonchalantly spinning a pen around the bases of his fingers. Lucy was sat at the desk across the room, her situation fairly similar as books of learning and half-written problem papers sat in front of her. They were meant to be finishing up homework for their A-level mathematics class tomorrow, but they were way too busy reliving the events of the evening.

"I know!" Lucy nodded, smirking, "I could have sworn she was gonna kiss him. I mean they were about two inches apart."

"I don't know about kissing him after that," Malakai laughed, shaking his head, "I damn near decked the fucker after he elevated me."

"Do you think he did that on purpose?" Lucy asked, ignoring Malakai.

"What?" Malakai replied, laughing again, "You think Luis put his face two inches away from Mel because he knows she likes him?"

Lucy considered it for a second and then broke out into laughter, "You're right, that was a stupid idea."

"Very stupid," Malakai commented.

"I don't know how he doesn't see it!" Lucy continued, throwing her arms up in the air, "She tries to hide it, but it's so obvious!"

"Dude just doesn't get those things," Malakai shrugged, transferring the pen he was still twirling from one hand to the other.

"And yet he knows her well enough to play on the exact fears that will push Mel to her breaking point? How does he see that stuff, but not see that she so blatantly likes him?"

"Because those are the things he sees easily; the things that will give him an edge over someone in a life or death situation. The Grim Reaper hasn't got time for feelings; not when he's got all that death to collect."

"That's very cold," Lucy noted, slightly disturbed that Malakai had described his best friend in such basic terms.

"Yeah, I guess," Malakai shrugged. Lucy stared at him until her relented, "OK, look, let me break this down for you. You were an only child and your parents died in a car crash, right?"

"Yeah," Lucy nodded slowly. She never liked being reminded of how the two people who loved her unconditionally, the two people she looked up to and loved more than anything, got taken away from her.

"Luis watched every single member of his family die right in front of his eyes, individually. They weren't all killed at once; he had to watch three separate times as the people he loved most in the world were snatched away from him. And then, on top of all of that, he had to get out of a city that was being invaded and a country that was being torn apart by a war that is still raging. You think getting touchy-feely with people is high on his list after all that?"

"So what?" Lucy retorted, refusing to admit that Malakai was right about Luis being cold, "There are plenty of kids here that have awful stories. Shit, you were a child soldier in the Third Congo War!"

"But I've never lost anybody I loved," Malakai replied, "Whatever drug-addled parents I had, they were gone to AIDS long before I ever remembered them. The only thing I ever remotely liked back then was a dog in the village called Mickey Mouse. Look, I can read people, that's how I got out of Africa. What I'm telling you about Luis is the truth."

"What about all the people you killed?" Lucy soldiered on, "All the death you saw in Africa? That hasn't changed you from being the kindest, funniest person on campus."

"You know how much death I've actually seen?" Malakai questioned, pointing to himself, "Not much. Sure, the odd dude keeled over in our village from disease or AIDS, but we weren't wanting for food or water like the adverts say. I was a child soldier for two weeks before I got away. I shot one person and he lived because I only clipped him in the leg. Compared to what Luis experienced in Mexico, I lived in fucking paradise."

"Like I said," Lucy folded her arms and pouted, "Having a bad early experience shouldn't turn you into a cold machine like that."

"A bad experience?" Malakai shook his head slowly, "I can't believe I'm going to have to explain this so simply... You're from Italy, right?"

"Yeah," Lucy nodded, "I spent my first two years in Germany, then six in Italy before my parents..."

"And how many kids do you know on campus that are from Italy?" Malakai picked up before Lucy thought about her parents too much.

"Uhh, well there's Marco, Seb, Ch-"

"There's a lot of them," Malakai cut in, "Now, it's incredibly obvious that you don't like talking about how your parents died, like a lot of kids here. But if you did want to, how many others are there that had their parents taken in a car crash?"

Lucy could see where this was going, "A lot."

"Exactly, you've got a lot of people to talk to about what you've been through and where you're from. For me, there might not be too many kids that can relate to the whole child soldier thing, but if I got the urge for some traditional home cooking, or just wanted to watch The Lion King with people who knew how real that shit was," Lucy let out a small chuckle at the last comment, "There's plenty of kids from Africa that I can do that with. You know how many people who grew up in Mexico we have on campus?"

"Isn't Luis half-Spanish as well though?" Lucy was trying to dodge the obvious, "There are plenty of Spanish children here."

"His mother was Spanish and moved to Mexico before he was born. He didn't spend a second of his life in Spain until he joined CHERUB. So, I'll ask again, how many people on this campus do you think are from Mexico?"

"I don't know," Lucy shrugged, becoming sad at the direction the conversation had gone, "Only a few?"

"Nope," Malakai shook his head, "Just the one. Just Luis. He watched his entire family die and then made it out of Mexico all the while keeping alive the three CHERUB agents and their handler that he pulled from the embassy when he went to try and find his mother. The only reason there aren't four more names up in the chapel is because Luis walked them from Mexico City all the way to the US border across a country that was literally killing itself. And the dude has no-one to talk to about it."

"Shit," Lucy finally breathed after a long minute of silence, "I guess I never really thought about it like that."

"Exactly, so now you know what he's properly about."

"Wait a minute," Lucy suddenly stopped, burying the previous few minutes of conversation, "Have you never just thought that Luis is like that because he just doesn't get girls? Like, he doesn't understand them?"

"Well, that is the much more obvious explanation," Malakai smirked; amused that he'd managed to string her along for so long.

"You asshole," Lucy squealed, throwing a textbook at the boy sitting on the bed, "So was any of what you said about Luis true?"

"All of it," Malakai nodded after avoiding the flying five-hundred and eighty-six page object of pain, "You've known his background for a long time, you know Luis. All of the stuff I just spelled out for you explains him as well as anyone possibly can. That is literally who he is, what I just told you. Mexico certainly didn't help the whole situation, but as far as I can tell he's still human, not some sort of cyborg killing machine, he isn't completely devoid of emotion and feeling. It's just the not getting girls thing is just that; not understanding the fair women folk. Because let's face it, you lot are fucking loopy."

"I guess," Lucy shrugged, "I gotta admit, I don't understand us sometimes. Like, why doesn't Mel just tell Luis that she likes him?"

"Because she likes to be in control. Did you not listen to Bodycount when he was explaining how we were gonna scare the crap out of her? Look, Luce, can we just change the subject now, concentrate on this maths? We have barely done any of it and I'd really like to get this done so we can move on to the more, uh, advanced exercises."

"Ohhh," Lucy giggled, "The more advanced exercises, eh? What makes you think you'll be attempting them tonight?"

"Come on, Luce," Malakai laughed, "Don't kid yourself. If we'd done these separately we could have had 'em finished half an hour ago. But then where would the togetherness be? What would we be celebrating, where would the passion be? The passion that can only come from completing exercise twelve-B on page two-hundred and sixty-five together."

As he was speaking Malakai had made his way across the room and was now perched on the edge of his desk, the one that Lucy had her chair pulled up to.

"You are so full of shit, do you know that?"

"Ahh, but you're smiling. It worked didn't it?"

The two leaned into each other, locking lips. Malakai had one hand cupping the side of Lucy's face while she had a handful of his t-shirt and was pulling him closer. However, they were interrupted when they heard a soft knock travel across the short hallway outside of the room and Malakai pulled away.

"Speaking of advanced exercise," Malakai smirked at Lucy before he raised his voice, "He's not in!"

There were a brief couple of footsteps before the door to the room creaked open and a shock of flame-red hair appeared in the doorway.

"Do you know where he is? He's not answering his phone."

"Luis not answering his phone? That seems extremely unlikely!" Lucy exclaimed sarcastically as Isabella stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her.

There were a few moments of silence before Isabella spread her arms wide, "So? Are you going to tell me where he is?"

"What makes you think I know where he is," Malakai asked. His voice was level, but unfortunately the cheeky grin for which he was known campus-wide was plastered across his face.

"Come on, you know where he is," Isabella pouted.

"What if he's busy?" Malakai asked, the grin growing wider on his face.

"Please, just tell me where he is," Isabella pleaded.

"You know I can't say no to a face like that," Malakai relented, "He's over with Stacey. Be warned though, she hasn't seen her man in nearly five weeks, so she's gonna be very possessive."

"Thanks, Kai," Isabella was already halfway out of the door as soon as she knew where Luis was.

"And be careful with him! He's only just got back from a mission and he's injured!"

Unfortunately he was shouting at a closed door by now and all he got was Lucy breaking down into laughter.

"How did she not see us!? I mean, you literally have your hand up my top."

Malakai glanced down to see his hand halfway up Lucy's side, bunching up her t-shirt.

"Huh, so I do," he shrugged, grinning at the sat girl in front of him, "Guess the little feller just got comfy there; I mean your skin, it's just so nice."

"Smooth, playboy," Lucy giggled batting his hand away, "But seriously? Is she blind?"

"Nope," Malakai shook his head, "Just Lu-drunk. Did you see the way her eyes lit up when Luis walked in to the dining hall? The only time she wasn't staring at him was when she was feigning disinterest so she didn't have to talk about Mel. "

"And yet he's still so oblivious."

"Exactly. I just don't know how he does it."

"You don't?" Lucy asked, "Come on, don't tell me you don't know that half of the girls on this campus drool over him."

"Oh, trust me, I know that," Malakai sighed, "You're talking to the guy who literally had to point out that the hottest girl on campus was throwing herself at him and convince him that she found him attractive. He is a special kind of dumb when it comes to girls."

"And yet we all still find him so hot..." Lucy sighed, relaxing back into the chair.

"We!?" Malakai faked hurt in his voice, "It's the whole Grim Reaper thing isn't it? That's what does it for you lot, all the dangerous missions and the big guns. Maybe I should give up the whole happy-go-lucky class clown shtick and turn myself into a killing machine that cares only for headshots and explosions."

Lucy leaned forward in her chair, silencing Malakai by grabbing a handful of his t-shirt and gently pulling him close to her, "I like you just the way you are."

* * *

Isabella had taken off as soon as Malakai had told her where Luis was, stopping briefly to grab an oversized hooded jumper from her room before braving the cold outside. She'd walked quickly but was still fairly cold as she entered the junior block. The junior block was where all of the kids who weren't yet allowed on missions lived. They all wore red shirts and ranged in age from quiet little three-year olds who were recruited with their elder siblings all the way up to boisterous almost-ten-year olds waiting for their birthdays and a shot at basic training.

Many of the kids who lived in the junior block liked to share rooms, either with siblings who were also red shirts or just friends they'd made since arriving on campus. However, Stacey was one of the youngsters with a room to herself, so when she found it empty, Isabella ventured down the hallway to the recreation room and found what she was looking for. She leant against the large double doorway and was content to just observe for a few minutes, knowing that interrupting Stacey and Luis now would only bring drama.

At the far end of the room there was a projector system built into the ceiling that displayed on a huge screen that served as the far wall. It was installed a few years ago in place of the numerous flat-screen televisions that had to be replaced fairly frequently thanks to the building housing more than a hundred youngsters.

Currently it was showing one of the final scenes from the first Toy Story film. Despite being made over thirty years ago, it was still popular with pretty much every red shirt that graced the junior block and was a solid choice of film for when disagreements arose as to what to watch. There were over thirty of the little cherubs-in-waiting arranged on various sofas and bean bags spread out in front of the huge screen and each was intensely focused on Buzz and Woody clinging on to the back of RC as he zipped through traffic.

However, Isabella only had eyes for the one in the room who wasn't clad in bright red and she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone touched her on the shoulder.

"Oh!" One of the junior block carers, a middle-aged woman by the name of Karen got as much of a scare as the red-head did when she started, "I didn't mean to scare you Isabella."

"Don't worry about it, Karen," she smiled, "I just didn't notice you sneak up on me."

"I'll try to be less stealthy next time," the elderly woman whispered, "If you're here for Luis you're going to have a hell of a job prying Anastasia off of him, she's been clamped to him since he got here."

Isabella let a warm smile spread across her face as she turned her attention back to the people in front of the screen, her gaze resting back on the elder cherub in the middle of the room.

Luis was spread out on one of the bean bags and had a bundle of blonde hair curled in his lap, one of his arms laid protectively across it. The strikingly bright hair belonged to a seven-year old girl called Anastasia Kharkiv and she had both of her arms wrapped around Luis', pulling it tighter to her as she rested her head against him.

Three years ago, a newly-thirteen Luis had been sent on his first gold shirt mission with an older agent to infiltrate a terrorist organisation that had originated in Turkey. They ended up in the Ukrainian city of Kharkiv around the time the Russians began to invade. While they were able to partially neutralise the terrorist group and recover intel on the impending invasion, they still found themselves stuck in a city under attack. Kharkiv was the largest city on the Russia-Ukriane border and therefore was strategically important to the success of the Russian invasion.

During the escape from the city, Luis saved a four-year old girl, bringing her along much to the disapproval of the elder agent he was partnered with. Upon extraction Luis insisted that the girl was under his protection and should be taken back to CHERUB with them. After relenting, intelligence officials found a potentially gifted, yet painfully shy and quiet young girl who understood both Ukrainian and Russian and recognised a few English words and she was immediately placed in CHERUB's care and enrolled as a red-shirt.

Identifying herself only as Anastasia, she was given the last name of Kharkiv, the same as the city from which Luis saved her. At first she had difficulties fitting in due to not being fluent in English, although she quickly picked up the language and was able to start interacting with the other youngsters. Having spent a lot of her time with Luis, she became almost as possessive of him as he was protective of her and a running joke developed that while missions for other agents had to be approved by the ethics board, missions for Luis had to be approved by Anastasia first.

As the credits started rolling down the screen, Karen flipped the lights back on and began ushering the kids towards their rooms. Isabella stayed by the doorway, exchanging smiles and greetings with a few of the red-shirts that recognised her. She watched as Luis picked himself up from the bean bag while Anastasia wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her with him. The tiny girl's excitement at seeing Luis again was slowly being overcome by her sleepiness and she rested her head on the boy's shoulder as he walked across the room.

A smile appeared on Luis' face as he spotted Isabella and she couldn't stop herself from breaking into one either. They stopped in front of her and she reached up to Anastasia's head and swept some of the tangled blonde hair away from the little girl's face, revealing piercing blue eyes.

"Hi Stacey," Isabella cooed, using the nickname the young girl often went by.

"Hi Bella," she mumbled in response. Sleep was obviously winning the battle and she buried her head back into Luis' neck, "Are you going to read me a story as well?"

"I can if you want me to?" Isabella always liked the way the young girl used the last part of her name as opposed to the first part that the rest of the campus used.

"Mmm-hmm," Anastasia replied, moving her head a small amount in a nodding motion.

"Come on," Luis said as he began walking down the corridor, "Let's get you into bed. You've been asleep for the last ten minutes."

"Story," came the muffled response from Luis' neck.

"Oh, of course," Luis nodded, stroking the young girl's hair. Anastasia made a contented noise as they wandered down the hallway towards her room, Isabella walking alongside them and eventually opening the door to the red-shirt's room.

By the time Luis laid Anastasia down on the mountain of soft toys and blankets that passed for the young girl's bed, she was pretty much fast asleep, story time long forgotten. Isabella watched from the doorway as he tucked her into the bed, pulling the covers right up to the blonde's chin before kissing her on the forehead.

"Night night, Anastasia," Luis spoke softly in Russian, their nightly ritual.

"Night night, Luis," the tiny girl replied, half asleep as she snuggled down into the pillow, "Love you."

"Love you too," Luis replied, stroking her head before turning and making his way out of the room quietly.

Isabella backed out of the doorway as Luis came towards her, allowing him to close the door before she dragged him against the far wall, pulling him into her and standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Isabella's hands were laced into Luis' hair and his were around her waist as they were interrupted by a loud cough from down the hall.

"Not in here."

They both pulled away in surprise and Isabella turned a bright shade of red as she recognised the elderly lady down the corridor.

"Sorry, Karen. Goodnight."

She whisked them away down the hallway before the carer had time to reply, pulling Luis by the hand. She practically sprinted back to her room in the campus village, dragging Luis up the four flights of stairs to her room and pushing him through the door and onto her bed, clambering on top of him.

"Eager, huh?" The boy smirked as Isabella leant down to kiss him.

"I haven't seen you in months," Isabella sighed as they pulled apart for air, "When I got back from Italy with Lucy they told me they'd sent you straight back out on another mission. I haven't seen you since August, you have no idea how badly I wanted to jump you at dinner."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea."

An unsure amount of time later – neither of them had kept an eye on the clock – they were both laying naked under the covers, Luis on his back while Isabella was curled up on his side, an arm draped over him while her head found a comfy spot near his shoulder. She was drawing meaningless patterns on his chest with her finger while he had an arm wrapped underneath her and around her back. Because she was on Luis' right side, it was his injured arm that she was laying on and as she shifted slightly it caused Luis to wince and grunt as pain shot through his stitched wound.

"Oh my God!" Isabella exclaimed as she shot up off Luis' arm, "I'm so sorry, I forgot all about your arm! Are you OK?"

Luis was mildly amused, letting a small smile spread across his face as the red-head placed a concerned hand on his chest, "I'm fine, it just pulled at one of my stitches. Can you check it's not bleeding?"

Isabella nodded meekly, still alarmed she had hurt Luis, even just a little bit. She shifted herself slightly, curling her legs beneath her as he sat up and turned to expose the wound on the back of his arm. The red line that ran slightly diagonally across his skin was still intact, the stitches still holding the jagged edges of the injury closed. However, it was something else that caught Isabella's eye.

"What's that across your back?"

"Oh," Luis replied, turning so he had his back fully to her, "I got a new tattoo."

Isabella was captivated by what was on the boy's back. She had always been fascinated by Luis' other tattoo and now her hands lightly traced the outlines of the four words spread from shoulder to shoulder in flowing script. She stared at it for a few moments more before speaking again.

"What's it say?"

"_La Parce siempre gana_." Luis replied, turning back around to face her, "It means: The Grim Reaper always wins."

Luis had leant back against the wall that the bed was pushed up to and Isabella crawled around to him and lay down next to him, her head resting in his lap, looking up at him, "I can't work out whether that's very arrogant or very morbid."

"Both," Luis stated without any hesitation, "Whether I live or die, The Reaper always wins."

"That's incredibly dark," Isabella gasped, shocked at how calmly the boy she was laying on described it.

"Got it on my birthday," he shrugged, "It seemed appropriate."

"Hey," Isabella purred, reaching up and placing a hand on Luis' cheek, understanding now where the tattoo had its roots. The fall of Mexico City and all that it entailed had begun on the thirteenth of December, which also happened to be Luis' birthday, "There are still people who care about you."

As the night rolled on Luis eventually succumbed to the exhaustion of the past forty-eight hours and drifted off into a deep sleep. From the position she had wrapped herself around the sleeping form next to her, Isabella could see Luis' left shoulder, his other tattoo prominently displayed on it.

He had got it when he turned only twelve, while away on a mission, and his mission controller had done her nut when she found out and he'd gotten a severe punishment from Zara upon his return to campus as well; rumour had it that she'd threatened to kick him out. Obviously, everyone else thought it was awesome, but Isabella knew he didn't do it for anyone but himself.

The tattoo was of the Aztec depiction of the sun and it covered most of his shoulder. Large stylized flares fanned out from an Aztec face that formed the central part of the sun, although Isabella had never quite worked out whether the expression on the face was meant to be blank, sad or something different. The sun was a sacred symbol of the Aztecs and they worshipped it as the most powerful among their gods, believing that it watched over both their world and the heavens.

Luis had explained to her that for an Aztec, the sun also symbolises the place people go to after their life is over. He said he got it to help cope with losing his family and to constantly remind him that they were in a better place than before.

Isabella found herself tracing the marks of the face in the sun, alternating between studying the tattoo and the face of the boy sound asleep next to her. As she watched the rise and fall of his chest she whispered three words into his ear that she'd been longing to tell him for months now.


	5. It's Just The Way Of The World

**5. It's Just The Way Of The World**

Luis was up just before seven the following morning and he carefully peeled the sleeping Isabella off of him, taking great care not to wake her up as he snuck out of the room. He quickly took the two flights of stairs back up to his room, dumping his jeans, underwear and t-shirt onto his dirty clothes pile. He hoped that the staff would let him keep the t-shirt as it had the Spanish Navy's crest displayed on the front and _Armada Española _printed across the back.

Naked as the day he was born, Luis wandered through to his en-suite, stepping under the shower and putting it on full-blast. He had every intention of turning straight back into bed, but as he was standing under the soothingly warm water, he realised he was so hungry he could eat a horse. In the past forty-plus hours all he'd had to eat was a sandwich on the plane back from Spain and dinner at CHERUB yesterday, so he decided to head over to the catering block and see what he could find.

After another fifteen minutes of completely steaming up the bathroom, Luis hopped out of the shower and dried off. He fished a pair of clean olive coloured trousers out of a drawer and put them on with a fresh gold CHERUB t-shirt. A pair of battered combat boots completed the standard-issue uniform all agents had to wear during weekdays on campus. On the way out of the door he grabbed a thick hoody from the back of his chair and shrugged it on.

Taking the elevator from the sixth floor down he appeared to be the only one in the whole block awake at such an early hour. Luis pulled the hood on his top up and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he exited the block, strolling down the pathway towards the fountain. A fresh dusting of snow had settled during the night and he noted another line of footprints leading down the path. Maybe he wasn't the only one awake this early then.

The crunch of fresh snow permeated each step Luis took as he created a new set of tracks down the paths, passing by the fountain and up the arm that led to the catering block. The air was bitterly cold and he let a smile spread across his face as warmth seeped back into his body upon stepping into the large building, smells of cooking already wafting through it.

Luis wandered through to the dining hall and found a handful of people already littering the tables. Some wore the exhausted expression and running clothes of early morning punishment laps, warming themselves back up from the frozen landscape they'd just run through. Others were hunched over bits of paper, textbooks to the side of them, scraping together their brain cells in a desperate attempt to finish a bit of homework for their morning classes. And the rest? Well, they were just hungry.

After asking one of the chefs for a full-English – there was only cereal laid out at the moment since most of the campus didn't storm in until gone eight o'clock – Luis spotted an opportunity he'd only gotten a handful of times before: the chance to sneak up on Malakai.

His best friend was among the few that were hunched over work and he had a half finished bowl of cereal accompanying the textbook and sheets of paper laid out in front of him. He had his back to the serving counter and so hadn't spotted Luis yet, allowing him to quietly walk up behind the African boy. Luis calmly placed his hands on Malakai's shoulders and watched as he jumped a foot into the air.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

A couple of kids had caught what happened and were quietly suppressing laughs as Luis slid into a chair next to Malakai.

"One-nil," the lightly-tanned boy smirked.

"One-all, baby," corrected Malakai, "Shoulda seen your face yesterday at dinner."

"I feel like long-running ones shouldn't count, that's been going for a couple of years."

"And yet you still get embarrassed by it. Though I guess you're right, if we counted them I'd dominate so hard it wouldn't be funny."

"Riiiight..." Luis nodded slowly, drawing out the word.

"Oh come on, you're still trying to deny the dynamic we have? You shoot dudes in the head and I crack one-liners to lighten the mood. That's how it works, if it didn't the world would stop turning or some shit. Or we'd all get really depressed at how many people you've killed."

"Solid analysing buddy."

"Best I could do given the circumstances," replied Malakai, rubbing his eyes, "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Is that your subtle way of trying to tell me you had sex last night, because you know I'm not good at picking up those sort of clues."

"God, yes, it was, how obvious do I h-"

"I got it, man!" Luis burst into laughter, "I was joking. Goddamn, you really are tired aren't you?" As Luis was laughing one of the kitchen staff produced a plate piled with bacon, sausage, egg, mushroom, hash browns, baked beans, toast and more bacon and plopped it down in front of him, "Oh my God, thank you, that looks amazing!"

"Hold on," Malakai stated as Luis stuffed a forkful of egg and sausage into his mouth, "How come you're down here eating that?"

"Because I'm hungry, idiot," mumbled Luis through a mouth full of food.

"No, I got that," replied Malakai, eyeing his friend warily as he stuffed nearly a full slice of toast into his mouth, "But I saw that look in Iz's eye last night, why are you down here eating grease off a plate instead of still with her eating strawberries and chocolate off her stomach?"

"Is that even a thing? You've been watching too many of Lucy's movies."

"Oh, it's definitely a thing, my man." A mischievous grin played across Malakai's face.

"Well even if that's true, I don't think she keeps those kinds of things stocked in her bedroom and if she did I don't think she'd be letting me eat them off her."

"Oh, you didn't see that look she had when she barged into my room demanding I tell her exactly where you were. I think you're underestimating the girl. So tell me, why the salt down here rather than the sugar up there?"

"You just think that one up?" Luis looked at Malakai out of the corners of his eyes.

"It's been on the burner. Now answer the question dammit."

"If you're so adamant I should still be in bed with Isabella, how come you're not still doing the same with Lucy?" Luis had a cocky smirk on his face, thinking he had won.

"We both have maths due for first lesson and I've got a history essay due for third. So I'm doing the maths while Lucy finishes my history essay because she did it last year and if we're still in the same room none of that shit is getting done."

"Balls."

"Now tell me your reason, _idiota_."

"Oh, a bit of Spanish."

"I've picked up a word or two from you. Now spill it."

"You know all we do is just sleep together. I don't think she wants anything more than that, so I don't want to make things awkward by hanging around in the morning too long. Plus, I really was hungry."

Malakai hid a small smile at his friend's naivety, "Did you say bye when you left?"

"She was asleep." Luis shook his head, shrugging as he stabbed a pile of mushrooms.

"In and out like the _Mexicano bandito_ you are," laughed Malakai, turning a page in his textbook, "Sweet! Only six more to go!"

Luis took a peek over at what the boy was working on, "How does any of that make any sense to you?"

"Just does. You'll get here one day, pumpkin."

"I doubt it. Once I finally pass my GCSE, I don't want to see another equation in my life."

"Finally, the one thing I'm better than The Grim Reaper at! You might be able to shoot a guy in the head from a mile off, but I can differentiate the fuck out of these numbers."

* * *

As Chairwoman of CHERUB, Zara Asker was in charge of one of the UK's elite undercover espionage branches and therefore possessed one of the highest security clearances in the country. The only people with higher clearance that she knew of were the heads of each armed forces branch, the Defence Council, the Prime Minister and, of course, the current reigning monarch. In essence, there were only a handful of people in the country who could effectively pull rank on her.

Holding such a position meant that she was kept informed of any potential flashpoints or developing situations that could involve her branch. With the way the world was currently, that entailed frequent briefings and meetings with heads of intelligence agencies and fellow espionage branches – both domestic and foreign – and of course her superiors.

Rather than relying solely on phone calls or emails to keep abreast of current issues, when the main building was renovated and the top floor set aside for the Chairwoman's office, a communications room was constructed. It contained secure video link-up to up to ten other similar rooms and allowed large-scale briefings between many different branches to be conducted quickly and efficiently.

Currently she was in a meeting with Alex Jenkins, Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service, Lieutenant General Nathaniel Conrad, the commanding officer of the SAS, and the entire Defence Council, chaired by the Secretary of State for Defence, Gareth Kirkbride. They were currently reaching the end of a discussion on a situation developing along the Finland-Russian border, in which she had two gold shirts invested.

"B Squadron is on deck at an airfield just outside of," Lieutenant General Conrad paused as he looked down and checked a piece of paper, "Savonlinna. They can be off the ground in sixty seconds and on location in under half an hour once the call comes through."

"Excellent," Gareth Kirkbride nodded, before addressing Alex Jenkins, "When should we expect this to be wrapped up by?"

"I've been told no less than forty-eight hours until my agents make the call," replied the grey-haired head of MI6, "They should be heading back towards the border by the time B Squadron is in the air, and will make their way to Helsinki where they'll be extracted back to the UK along with the two CHERUB agents."

"Anything to add Chairwoman Asker?"

"Not at this time," she shook her head. Zara had developed an excellent working relationship with the head of MI6 and she was normally content to let him do the talking in meetings when their agents were working together, "MI6 has the lead on this one, my agents are just there to speed up the intel."

"Wonderful," the head of the Defence Council clapped his hands together as he spoke, "I believe that draws this briefing to a close. Lieutenant General, I wish your men luck."

"Thank you for the sentiment, Sir." The elderly soldier saluted, "Expect a debrief when this is all concluded."

With that the screen in front of Zara that was displaying him went dark as the link was terminated. The Secretary didn't address either herself or Alex and they watched as one by one the other members of the Defence Council terminated their link, leaving just the bespectacled Gareth on screen out of the six ministers that formed the council.

"Gareth?" After a few moments of silence Alex spoke up, "Can I ask why you still have us on link-up?"

"Waiting on the PM," replied Gareth, not looking up from a stack of papers he was sorting through, "He should be here shortly."

Instinctively, Zara flashed a look towards the screen that displayed Alex, finding that he had done the same, a quizzical expression on his face that mirrored the one on her own. Very rarely would the Prime Minister ever be in on one of these meetings. Usually he was only aware of the most pressing issues and even then he was normally only brought up to speed by a short briefing from one of his ministers after the fact.

Almost as if on cue, another screen flickered to life, depicting the face of Prime Minister Harvey Steele. He had short brown hair and wore glasses that framed light green eyes.

"Secretary Kirkbride," he addressed his senior defence minister.

"Prime Minister," Gareth responded, "Alex Jenkins, Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service and Zara Asker, Chairwoman of CHERUB."

"A pleasure." The Prime Minister nodded to each of them in turn before addressing the Secretary again, "Since we're all here."

"Of course."

The fair-haired man pressed a button on the desk in front of him and three more screens blinked into life. Three different United States seals appeared on the screen: the first displayed the seal for the Office of the Director of National Intelligence; the second was for the Office of the Secretary of Defence; the final one was the Presidential seal. One by one they blinked away to be replaced by the faces of three men, all wearing serious expressions.

It was Prime Minister Steele who broke the silence, addressing each new man in turn.

"President Leighton, Secretary Halsey, Director Vaughn. My Secretary of State for Defence, Gareth Kirkbride, Chief of the SIS, Alex Jenkins, and this is Zara Asker."

No-one questioned the omission of her job title; they would be informed soon enough.

"Now that we are all assembled, let's discuss the issue that has us here: Mexico."


End file.
